[London's Musuem of Magical Artifacts] A Chance Encounter (Ba'al)

          From the outside the L. M. M. A looked like any other old majestic brick building; it was a credit to its time. The building had been built back in the Victorian era and even the groundwork was the original landscaping. It consisted of beautiful hedges, that made up a maze. Marble benches lined the paths, every now then a fountain; the fountains were lovely to look at. The scent of roses wafting from the center. The pathways had a slight weather charm to keep them warm all year round. Yet it was unnecessary on this lovely June day.
          The museum was celebrating their reopening, they had been closed for the last few months for remodeling and maintenance. On the inside the museum was much larger and had more floors than it appeared from the outside. This was due to the enlarging charms cast throughout. The museum interior had been remodeled so many times since the original opening that only the underground parts stayed unaltered. These were cold stone lined places filled with shelves and crates. Stasis charms were heavily cast everywhere throughout it. The basements were inaccessible to the public, there purpose was for academic and historical preservation of artifacts.
          The lobby was a drastic change; the whole outside wall was enchanted to look like a glass window. The modern style benches that lined it were in a tactful black and white. The floors were a shiny black marble with white flecks, the front desk was chrome with a glass top. Yet past the front lobby, cafe, parlors and lecture halls the old style returned. White marble with black veins made up the walls and ceilings. Grand pillars made of same marble lined the opening ways, grand staircases led up to higher floors. Each floor was broken up into Different in what way?different themed sections. It was the goal to make the sections look like the era and place the artifacts came from. Some artifacts were laid out on pedestals covered by glass and stasis charms and wards. Others just were out in the open and some were displayed in a scene created with mannequins.
           In this Museum one could find artifacts that belong to legends: A sword that was believed to be Excalibur, the Grecian floor had Hermes Lyre on display. It was a loan from a museum in Greece. Tablets with ancient runes written on them were every where; the writings were of lost magic and spells. There was even a room dedicated to the Kavanagh family history.
          The room had been originally created to pay respect and please the family during a time when they held great wealth and influential power. Yet as time went on and the family lost their influence the exhibit was moved farther and farther from the public. It now occupied the very top floor, and was rarely visited. Most the artifacts were sold off or thrown out. Only a few remained a sword, a potion book, an old family tapestry and a few other odds and ends of their legacy. The stasis charms and wards were weaker here than anywhere else from neglect.





          The late afternoon sun shone brilliantly down upon the path as Áine hurried along it, her robe carried upon her arm. She wore muggle style clothing of jeans and purple shirt that advertise a popular wrock band. Áine was exhausted and slightly annoyed, it had been a long day. Then she had been summoned here to meet for tea. The person she was meeting was some pureblood guy her grandmother had hopes of setting her up with. Áine wanted to just not show up, yet she knew her father would lecture her, and her poor mother would wish her to get along better with the Kerrs. With odd looks Áine enters one of the grand parlor rooms; where the wealthy and influential drank their tea. Her grandmother stood up from the table as Áine sat down ungracefully. Áine ignored the older woman's criticism on her appearance. Seriously what did the lady expect Áine hadn't had time to change.
          Tea was a disaster, The guy showed up late and was a pompous idiot who bored her with his ramblings. Seriously this guy didn't have half the intelligence of a gryffindor. She thought as she quietly sipped her tea. Her thoughts began to wander to the medical test that was coming up. What were the ingredients to the memory enhancement potion, was the flobberworms added before or after taking off the fire?. It was definitely after flobberworms were used as a thickening agent. Oh he asked a question. "I am sorry could you repeat that" Áine listened and replied then went back to her thoughts.
           Finally it was over her grandmother had left along with the guy. Áine thought about heading over to the public cafe to get a bite to eat. The parlor she had been was much too fancy and she was tired of the odd looks given to her by the elitists that used it. The cafe near the main lobby had the most delicious cakes and sandwiches. Today's special would be turkey sandwich and spice cake with cream cheese frosting. It was cozy yet had an edgy modern vibe to it. Áine sat down to a table by herself, and began munching on her sandwich. Tea was over and the museum be closing in a few hours so few people were still in the cafe. Being granddaughter to the museum owner had its perks; Áine never worried about closing time like the general public. She would often leave with the last of the workers or scholars that came to study in the basement. Áine simply pulled out her notes and began to study.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, excuse me, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

Ba’al had lost count of how many times he had bumped into someone today, and this felt like the third time he was stooping to pick up his fallen papers. Things were busy, as they always seemed to be for him, but had been running around quite a bit recently. There always seemed to be something to do, something to translate, something to dig up. Ba’al had been knee-deep in a bog in the Amazonian rainforest when the owl reached him. He had been leading a dig to uncover a cache of ancient weapons buried somewhere in the much, hopefully wrapped in some thick fabric to prevent disintegration. It was common for indigenous tribes to leave hordes of weapons and gold for emergencies.

The London Museum of Magical Artifacts had requested his expertise in translating an Assyrian stone tablet collection that they had recently gotten a hold of. Ba’al was an expert linguist and historian and had worked with them a few times before. The museum was quite nice, though the people there seemed somewhat stuck up. That was why he preferred to stay out in the field or at the universities. Dealing with private collectors and museums tended to get messy. And messy it did get when he discovered that the museum had a collection of pebbles, rumored to be the raven’s creation stones from Kwakwaka'wakw mythology. Ba’al knew for a fact that if the descendants of the Kwakwaka'wakw tribes still living in North America knew they had these stones, they would be livid. The stones were stolen some two centuries ago and had somehow ended up here. He knew he had no choice but to retrieve them and bring them back. Unfortunately, they were under lock and key, with a web of wards and a security panel protecting it from people like him.

He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized how late it was. He gathered his things and made his way out, passing by the café. There was a lone figure sitting there. He recognized the young lady as a member of the museum’s founding family. He’d met her and her grandmother in passing the day before when he was first brought in. What was her name…Aine? Ba’al doubted the girl remembered him, she probably came into contact with a lot of different historians and scholars. He was considering walking right past her, but something made him pause. She would have access to the museum’s security panel and she would know exactly which ward held the east wing’s display case in check.

Ba’al had heard things about Aine, the current heir to the museum. She wasn’t like the rest of the society ladies in this area, from what he could tell. He’d heard a few whispers and caught a few bits of conversation from others when she walked past a group of gossiping women. People tended to ignore Ba’al’s presence since he was just a lowly historian to most of these people, and he was okay with that. He usually didn’t pay much attention to the elitist gossip he was surrounded by, which allowed him to hear quite a bit of intel.

But would she want to help him? That was a huge leap, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten inside help to rob a museum. He usually liked to work alone, but having friends in the museum business, especially someone who was in line to inherit the whole museum, seemed like the perfect match. Shifting the four long rolls of parchment under his arm, he squared his thick black glasses on his nose and approached her table.

“Hi, ah, um, I don’t know if you remember me... I’m Ba’al, the linguist translating the Tiglath Pileser III decree tablet on the fourth floor. Do you, uh, mind if I join you?”

The cup of tea long forgotten had turned cold. The cake and sandwich were reduced to crumbs. Áine had her head resting in her hand as she carefully read the notes before her. Tic tic tic the clock behind the counter quietly measured time as it passed by. Tap-tap tap tap-tap, Áine bad habit of not being able to contain her hands were showing as she tapped her quill. The noise only stopped when she would dip it into the ink well to mark something then it was back to tapping. The server behind the counter frowned at the inky mess on the table but they knew it was best not to say something to Áine, or to interrupt her when she was so deep into her studying.

She was so consumed in her notes on skeltgrow: The effects of each ingredient had upon the body and effects of the potion as a whole. She hadn't heard the entrance of the linguist. When he spoke it had startled her. Years of practice and training prevented her from jumping. A very observant person might see the signs: the way her body stiffened and the slight jump in her hand causing her to make a slight change in her handwriting. With somewhat of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth Áine carefully set aside her notes and a medical essay. As she took her time, she secretly watched the male before her, taking in his appearance and looking for any telling signs of annoyance.

The task completed she fully looked up at him and spoke in her impersonal tone. The linguist was lucky that it was who he was and not somebody else interrupting her. Áine's patience was at its end. "Yes you may join me Mr. Az-Zahair" Áine subconsciously stressed the last name. Áine had what some may call an odd quirk, she was always formal in names. The only person who got away with calling her Áine outside of family was Simon and he was family in all but blood.
"You Sir are quite lucky that I was meaning to speak to since that time with my grandmother. Tea Mr. Az-Zahair?" Áine waved her wand and reheated the teapot and summoned another cup; to the annoyance of the employees. Áine knew they hated this but it was her payback for an earlier remark one made about her and inky messes.

Áine was trying to be cordial, she had wanted to meet and talk to Ba'al Az-Zahair since she heard of some of his archaeological digs while she was on her break from work. If it were not for the BoH Áine might have followed in his steps. From the stories she had heard of the archaeologist, Áine had been reminded of her ancestor Douglas Kerr; who with backing of friends open the museum. It was during a time when all British Empire muggle and magical was interested in other cultures besides their own. Douglas wanted to allow not just the elite and adventurous to see the marvels around them. Yet he also was very much a forward thinking man who respected the cultures he had encountered and wanted people to show the same. Sadly his following successors were not as honest.